


Love Exists Inside Every Heart

by SummerStormFlower



Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Other, maybe I’m a little old for lego but this cartoon holds a special place in my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerStormFlower/pseuds/SummerStormFlower
Summary: When Pixal was born, it was everything a newborn could’ve dreamed of. (complete)





	Love Exists Inside Every Heart

When she opened her eyes for the very first time, she was met with the sight of a dark-haired man with glasses and a kind, old smile in a wheelchair. 

“Hello there, Pixal,” he said softly, and even though she’d never met him before, his voice sounded familiar. “How are you?”

“I...am confused, but fine,” she answered honestly. She looked around her, examining her surroundings. The desk with a laptop and a full cup of coffee on it. The pale grey walls decorated with beautiful paintings. The soft red carpet beneath her toes. The comfortable lean of the chair she was sitting in.

“If you are confused, please tell me what you’re confused about,” the man said. His face was warm. His voice was warm. He made her feel safe. “I will do my best to explain whatever it is you are curious about, Pixal.”

She blinked slowly, feeling tired. The man’s voice was so gentle, it could lull her to sleep. “Why do you keep calling me Pixal?” she asked.

“Because that is your name, my dear,” the man smiled. “The name I have given you.”

“You gave me this name?”

“Yes I did.”

“But why?” She—Pixal was confused again; confused by the warmth this man exuded, by the emotion in her chest, by his light touch upon her arm.

“Why on earth wouldn’t I name you, my dear? Everyone deserves to have a name,” he replied.

Pixal shivered then, cold all of a sudden. 

“Here, my dear.” The man removed his coat, draping it over Pixal’s shoulders

Something swelled in Pixal’s heart at the gesture. “Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Cyrus Borg,” the man answered, “I am your inventor.”

“My...inventor?” Pixal repeated, trying to wrap her head around the word. 

“That’s right,” said Cyrus. “Though,” he smiled sheepishly, “I don’t want you calling me Inventor. It is what I am, but not my name.”

“Then, what should I call you?” Pixal questioned, pulling the coat around her shoulders closer to her. 

“As long as it isn’t Inventor, I will let you decide, my dear.”

Pixal tilted her head while she thought. She could simply call him Cyrus Borg, she knew this, yes, but it sounded too long. She could call him Mr. Borg, but that didn’t sound right. She could call him Cyrus, but that didn’t seem right either. She wanted to call him by a name that would reflect his importance to her. A name that would verbally show him, as well as others, that he meant a great deal to her—she appreciated his kindness, his warmth, his love...

Then the right word popped into her mind. The perfect word.

“Father.”


End file.
